Death Plague Omnibus [Four Zombie Novels] (22 page)

“Some guard dog you are.”

Gruff only barked when someone knocked, George could never work that out. He looked through the spy hole and his heart almost jumped up into his mouth. He couldn’t believe it, Anne stood on his porch. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d come to the door, certainly not since Madison had passed away.

She pressed the bell one more time. George turned the key, and he was about to open the door when he felt something brush against his leg. George yelped when he saw Gruff gazing up at him.

“Wait a minute!” he shouted, “Let me just move the dog.”

Gruff knew Anne; he even tolerated her stroking his back, but only when he was out on his walks. He was a different animal in the house. The dog was very territorial; he shuddered at the thought of the huge Alsatian pouncing on the poor woman.

“Come here, you pain in the bum. I thought you were still fast asleep. You’re getting sneaky in your old age.” He grabbed his collar and pulled him into the kitchen, a difficult feat as it was obvious that Gruff didn’t want to go. Before he shut the door, he popped the spray bottle back in the cupboard. If Anne found out he was using chemicals then he may as well kiss his blossoming relationship goodbye.

Anne’s belief in organic food bordered on the fanatic, the woman’s own vegetable garden looked like an Eden compared to his, and he had no idea how she managed it.

George opened the door and gave the woman a huge smile. “Hello there, Anne. This is rather unexpected.” He quickly looked behind him, making sure that he had closed that kitchen door. “I’m so sorry for not answering the door quicker; I had to make sure that Gruff was locked away.”

Was he blabbering? George felt like a nervous schoolboy on a first date. This was just ridiculous. He’d just entered his sixth decade for crying out loud.
Come on man
, he thought,
get a bloody grip.

The woman returned his smile; unlike him, she didn’t seem in the least bit nervous. “Don’t worry about it, George. I only popped round to see if you were coming over to the pub later on.”

A blue van sped past the house and as Anne followed its progress, George stole a subtle appraising glance. He couldn’t be sure about this, but was the woman wearing fewer clothes today? He grinned, not that he was complaining; he was getting a right eyeful of her full cleavage. Considering the woman had just had her fiftieth birthday, Anne could easily pass for someone half her age; well, maybe thirty-five, forty at the most.

“What are you grinning at?”

“Sorry, I was just wondering how much dye you use to cover up all that grey hair.”

She laughed out loud, looked into the man’s eyes before winking. “Yeah, sure you were. Even so, I ought to give you a bloody good slap for that remark, George Kasnovski. This colour is all natural, I’ll have you know.”

George nervously licked his lips, wondering if he ought to make the first move. He then paused; bloody hell, he must be getting senile in his old age. She’d already done that; Anne knew for a fact that he’d be at the Rose and Crown tonight, where else would he be?

“Do you want to come in?” he asked, surprised that there wasn’t a quiver in his voice. “I was just about to make myself a cup of tea.”

She slowly nodded, “There had better be no more smart remarks about my hair, that’s all I can say.”

He stepped back to allow her inside. As Anne brushed past him, he caught the strong scent of wild flowers. For the first time, he tried to imagine what she looked like naked. George coughed, a little shocked that his libido had tentatively made a brief appearance. He thought that had disappeared months ago.

“Thanks for the offer, George.” She padded over to the fireplace and looked at the framed photograph of his son, Dean. “If you don’t mind, I’ll just have a glass of water,” she turned. “Unless you have herbal tea.”

George shook his head. “Sorry, no.”

He stayed where he was, watching Anne trace her finger down the side of the picture. George hadn’t seen Dean since the funeral. Come to think of it, he had no contact with his son for over eight months now. The last time they’d spoke, the uneasy stilted conversation soon turned into a combination of guilt tripping each other followed by swearing. In the end, Dean had slammed the phone down, saying that he never intended to speak to George again. He had trouble remembering why his son had rung him up in the first place, something about getting a new job working for the government.

He’d thought that Madison passing away would have brought them back together. Those two never really got on with each other once Dean had hit puberty. His relationship with their only child hadn’t been all that brilliant either. The lad had received his mother’s good looks, her intelligence, and her raging temper. The only thing George had appeared to have contributed to the lad’s genetic make-up was his height. George always got the impression that his son regarded his own father as a bit of a meek simpleton and treated him as such until Dean left home.

George may not have been the sharpest tool in the box, but he wasn’t the idiot that Dean made him out to be. As for being meek, well, there was nothing wrong with wanting a quiet life.

“I still remember Dean running about in short trousers. He grew up into a very handsome young man, almost as handsome as his father.” Anne turned, and the smile slipped off her face. “Oh, I’m sorry; I take it you two still aren’t talking?”

He shrugged. “Not for a while. Look, would you care for something stronger than water? I have a rather nice unopened bottle of red wine in the cupboard.”

“I hope you aren’t thinking of getting me drunk and taking advantage,” she said batting her eyelids.

He had to do a double take, was he reading the signs correctly here? Was this woman making a pass at him? Oh Lord. George wasn’t sure what to do. He swallowed, whilst nervously twiddling his thumbs. “It would take more than a single bottle to get you drunk, I’ve seen you sink those pints in the pub.”

She nodded, then slowly unbuttoned her coat. Anne allowed it to fall to the floor, then she walked up to him. What little clothes she had on underneath left no doubt that the signs were full on green. George even felt the beginnings of an erection.

“So, you’ve been keeping a close eye on my exploits have you?” she purred. Anne placed her arms around his neck and nibbled his ear. “Do you think we could drink that wine later tonight?”

George felt his head nod. “Okay,” he whispered.

Anne took hold of his hand, kissed his lips, then pulled George towards the stairs.

Chapter Two

Alison Winwood felt a shiver go through her cold body; she leaned back against the brick wall and attempted not to cry. She took a deep breath and wiped rainwater out of her eyes before looking back into the dark alley. Just past the two overflowing wheelie bins, an overturned pram, and several black bin-liners, Alison could make out the crumpled shape of the dealer, lying where she’d left him. After what seemed like an eternity but in reality was only a couple of minutes, he had yet to move.

The man was dead, he had to be. Alison would never forget that sickening crunch the back of his head made when it slammed into the concrete. Besides, she watched all that weird looking grey stuff leak out and pool around his ears as Alison had gone through all his pockets.

“That guy is like totally dead, girl,” she whispered. “And you’re the one that’s done it.”

Alison looked at the dark sky, trying to work out what time it was. She remembered avoiding all the pissed up revellers when the nightclubs had finally shut their doors, so it must be around four…maybe five.

It wouldn’t take too long before somebody discovered his corpse. The area may be deserted now, but in a few hours the shoppers would descend upon Birmingham’s shopping malls like fucking locusts. By ten at the least, hundreds of people would have passed this alley on their way to the arcades. It would only take one person to look the wrong way, to be more than a little nosey. It may be even earlier; what if some late drunk decides to take a piss up there? Or what about the council clean up team? They have yet to make an appearance. What about the dog walkers? The owners may not notice, but their animals sure as fuck would notice.

It mystified her as to why she’d yet to feel any sort of remorse for what she’d done, it may not be her fault, but even so, it was still manslaughter.

“At least I think it is,” she whispered. “Fuck him, the bastard deserved it.”

Alison couldn’t care less about the police reining her in, Glen had a form sheet as long as his track-marked arm. He was just another drug dealing scum-bag; the coppers would see it as one more parasite out of the way, not worth even filing a report. They’d assume that Glen had encroached on a rival’s territory and paid for it. Even if the death was investigated, no finger would be pointed in her direction. Alison was an unknown in Birmingham, a young girl of no fixed abode, living on the streets. Only one other girl even knew her real name.

She slid down to the ground and put her head in her hands. It was Glen’s associates whom she feared; even Glen had been scared of them and with good reason. They acted as if they were above the law and they did know where Alison hung out; they’d have no trouble tracking her down. Those evil bastards wouldn’t listen to her story, what was she to them?

She sighed. Alison was a nobody, that’s what. She wasn’t even one of their customers, she had never touched drugs. Alison just made a few pounds by befriending the strays who like her had found their way into the city. She was supposed to point them in the direction of Glen, but only if they fitted into the lad’s profile. Glen had preferred his girls to be young and innocent—the younger the better.

His associates didn’t know about his rather dubious taste in girls; then again, maybe they did and just didn’t care. What did matter was that the dealer had a modicum of respect; he was good at his job. In their eyes, Alison had just denied them a valuable asset.

Her choice was painfully simple, she had to find a way out of the city before those clowns came looking for her. She dare not think of what they’d do if they did catch her.

She jerked her head up as a light coloured sports car slowly drove past her. Alison’s heart hammered against her ribcage. Oh Christ! It was too late, the fuckers had already found her. She got ready to bolt, then she stopped.

What was she playing at? How the hell would they have found it? Besides, those fuckers preferred big, black land cruisers to coast through the dark streets. The car stopped and the side window slid down. Alison knew exactly what this particular driver was after. She forced herself to relax, Alison was now in familiar territory.

On any other occasion, she would have thanked her lucky stars for providing her with some extra cash and possibly a soft bed for the night.

A nervous looking man leaned out of the window. Alison guessed that he was about forty-five, a little overweight with not much hair left. She also guessed, judging by his behaviour, that this was his first time.

“Are you okay, lady? I mean, with all this rain and what have you, would you not like to be somewhere warm and dry?” The man licked his lips.

She pushed her long brown hair out of her face and politely waited for him to finish off his proposal.

“I’ve got a spare bed at my apartment, little lady,” his tongue flicked out, danced across his lips, then slid back in his mouth. “I’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement.”

How unlucky was she? The perfect mark had just fallen into her lap. He looked stuffed with cash, not that bad looking aside from the lack of hair, and to top it all, he was greener than a sick frog. It would have taken her weeks to use this one up.

He gazed at her like a love-sick puppy. Tempting as it was, but Alison just couldn’t risk it, the man was probably a local. No, she had to turn this one down. If she didn’t get as far from here as possible, she’d be dead in a week; besides, it’s not like she needed any extra cash, not now.

Alison dug into her inside pocket and pulled out a black wallet that she’d lifted from a passing man a couple of weeks ago. He was too busy arguing with an ugly woman with a huge nose to notice that he’d just been robbed. She almost threw the wallet away after emptying out the notes. She was so glad she hadn’t now.

She flashed him a laminated badge. “I’ll give you two seconds to bugger off before I call my friends at vice.” It was only the bloke’s water board ID, but it was too dark to see clearly. The man’s head disappeared back into the car’s interior and within moments he was gone.

She sighed and wished that she could go back in time to an hour ago before all this had started. She hadn’t meant to kill him. She didn’t really want to hurt anyone…this was all his fault.

The guilt of sending those two girls to Glen had been eating into her for days. Alison shouldn’t have sent him the first girl, never mind the second, but at the time she was so desperate. Alison hadn’t eaten any proper food in over a week when he’d offered her a deal she couldn’t refuse.

“You don’t look so good. I don’t normally stop and talk to people like you but I think you may be just what I’m looking for. Would you like to earn some real money?” he had asked whilst smiling down at her.

At the time, Alison was slumped against the side of a dustbin, trying not to think about the excruciating cramps ripping through her body. This had been the first time since she’d run away that Alison had been ill. She hoped the worst of it was over; all she wanted now was a bit of comfort and perhaps a bit of hot food in her belly. Her mind was two years in the past, in her old life, in the sleepy village of Seeton. She sat at the table waiting for one of her mum’s yummy homemade steak and kidney pies with plenty of mash and peas.